


Love for a Broken Man

by SilverScaler3000



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: (only they’re so much more and don’t even realize it), (or as close as these two can get), Declarations Of Love, Enemies With Benefits, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Mild Blood/Gore, Misunderstandings, Mob Boss Tony Stark, Rescue, Tea, dark characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverScaler3000/pseuds/SilverScaler3000
Summary: Loki is kidnapped - expected - and Mob Boss Tony Stark swoops in to rescue him - unexpected.(A continuation of STARSdidathing’s ‘Emeralds for a Pretty Boy’)
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 30
Kudos: 308





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [STARSdidathing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Emeralds for a Pretty Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694244) by [STARSdidathing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/pseuds/STARSdidathing). 



> This chapter takes place between chapters one and two of ‘Emeralds for a Pretty Boy’ by STARSdidathing (you do not have to read the original fic, but I would highly recommend it bc it’s SO FLIPPIN’ GOOD!)
> 
> Enjoy!!!

“Loki, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

Loki groaned, opening his mouth to respond. He winced as his torn lip was re-opened by the action, and immediately shut it again. Blood still managed to trickle in; the taste bitter and coppery on his tongue. He clenched his teeth, worried that he was going to be sick.

“Come on beautiful, try to sit up.”

Loki attempted to shake his head but was met with pain for his efforts. His skull felt as if it were about to go flying off its axis, even as he laid on… what was he on?

Loki opened his eyes, squinting against the sudden brightness. He blinked a few times, unsurprised to find that it was Stark who was staring down at him. From the way they were moving, Loki guessed they were in a car; the back seat, to be precise. What was startling, was the realization that his head was resting on the mob boss’ lap.

If it wouldn’t have been painful to do so, Loki would have shrugged helplessly. Regardless of what Roger’s would have thought, there were worse places to be. Places from which this very criminal just rescued him from, apparently.

Loki closed his eyes once more, sighing tiredly through his nose as he let his exhaustion overtake him.

  
  
  
It had been a relatively normal Thursday evening. Loki had just gotten off a call with his brother and was taking a walk through the park nearest his apartment - conversations with Thor always ended in either this or a drinking binge - when he had been grabbed from behind. He had been training in self-defense at Romanoff’s suggestion, but that hardly put him in league with a professionally trained assailant, let alone many of them. Outnumbered five to one, they overpowered him easily. He was dragged off the path and thrown unceremoniously into a van. 

The rest was history. 

Or rather, it would have been, had Loki not had a chloroform soaked rag pressed against his mouth soon after kicking the driver in the head. They continued to keep him drugged after that, so his memory of the ordeal held only bits and pieces from when he had been, at least somewhat, lucid. They were enough for a man like himself to create a detailed picture in his mind, however, and it was not a pretty one. 

A mob boss who went by the name of Doom had taken Loki captive in an attempt to force the Avenger’s to let his sister out of prison. 

Doom was much like Stark, only, not. The man wasn’t the least bit entertaining and was far less challenging (not to mention he only held a fraction of the kind of power Stark had at his disposal). If Loki had had the energy to do so, he would’ve told the mob boss that his sister had betrayed him and was currently in hiding under witness protection services, not in a jail cell like the media believed. Alas, he was unable to say anything, and really, nothing he could have said would’ve held back the blows Doom’s mercenaries gave him. 

He was defenseless and could do nothing to resist. They beat him regardless. 

  
  
  


When Loki woke again, his head was still in Stark’s lap, though they appeared to be in a building now. The man’s expression was troubled, but he smiled softly when Loki’s eyes settled and focused on him. 

“There you are,” Stark murmured, his hand moving to brush a stray har out of Loki’s face, and then cup his cheek.

Stark’s sunglasses were missing and he wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. Loki also noted that the man’s leather gloves were gone. His fingers were rough where they brushed his skin, covered in numerous callouses. Regardless, they felt wonderful against Loki’s face, and he leaned willingly into the touch.

“As much as I enjoy having you on my lap, you really should sit up,” Stark told him.

He did not want to, and he whined pitifully to convey as much.

“Come on, Loki-kitty,” Stark teased him gently, “I have water.”

Water would be lovely, Loki decided. With Stark’s help, he managed to get into a sitting position. As promised, he was given water, although he was not allowed to drink it on his own. Stark seemed to think him incapable, and insisted on holding the glass for him while his other hand gently cupped the back of Loki's head. Once Loki had his fill, Stark set the glass on a coffee table, and let him lean back. 

“Feel any better?” the criminal asked. 

Loki hummed noncommittally. “What would make me ‘feel better’, was if you would tell me what happened to all of those damn emeralds. Rogers nearly threw a fit.”

Stark chuckled. “Maybe I kept them to remind me of your pretty eyes."

Any other day this would have made Loki smirk and give a responding quip. Not now, however, when he suspected he had a concussion and bruised ribs. He was in agony, and if the pain farther down was any indication-

“Was I stabbed in the leg?” he inquired, unsurprised when Stark nodded.

“Yeah, but the good news is that the knife didn’t hit your femur bone.” At Loki’s confused expression, he clarified. “I had a physician see to you while you were still out of it. Blood transfusion, stitches, the works. They’re someone I trust, so you don’t have to worry about any unwanted hanky panky.”

“I still am, to a certain degree,” Loki told him, only half-joking. To his surprise, Stark winced at the implication, and began scooting sideways across the - couch, they were on a couch, gods he was slow today - to give him more space. 

“I won’t touch you without your consent,” Stark stated firmly. 

“I know,” Loki replied. The criminal remained unplacated, fidgeting in a way that was customary of someone who wanted to take action, but was not certain if their offered aid would be received well. 

“I shouldn’t have- I probably should have put you in a bed…”

Honestly, Stark was behaving so awkwardly and unlike his usual suave self that Loki giggled. 

Oh shit, he was on morphine, wasn’t he? 

“You are,” Stark answered him. Loki hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “It’s only for the pain. I’m not going to interrogate you about the Avenger’s.”

Loki snorted at the insinuation that the man didn’t already know everything, from the spies most valued hiding place, to what brand of hair gel Barton used. 

“I see,” he said, taking in his surroundings. They were in a living room of sorts, in what appeared to be a high rise apartment, probably the penthouse. The view was magnificent, though Loki was far too out of sorts to appreciate it fully.

“Doom should have known better than to touch you,” Stark said suddenly, drawing Loki’s attention back to him. The man was positively livid, looking ready to set the world ablaze in his anger. “He knew you were mine, and he paid for his mistake with his life.”

Loki tensed and sat up straighter, despite his ribs screaming in protest. “I am no one's property,” he growled.

“No,” Stark agreed with him. “But you are under my protection.”

“Clearly, it’s lacking.”

Stark sighed at that. “There was an error in judgment made by one of my employees. It won’t happen again.” 

“See that it doesn’t,” Loki told him tersely. The effect was ruined by how his hands had begun to shake. 

He frowned down at them angrily, feeling betrayed by his own body. This was hardly the first time he’d been abducted, but never before had he felt that close to dying; drugged to the point he couldn’t use his own mind to find a solution. No pretty words to change his enemy’s mind, no clever hands to pick the locks that withheld his freedom. It had all been taken from him.

Stark noticed immediately and scooted closer, cupping Loki’s hands in his own. He tenderly kissed the knuckles on both. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

An apology. Of all the things Stark could have given him, this was the most unexpected.

Loki laughed, somewhat hysterically, feeling wetness gathering in his eyes. Gods, he was such a mess. Stark’s grip tightened, a comfort and a grounding point Loki desperately needed.

“Can I get you anything?” Stark asked, sounding lost. 

Loki blinked, holding back tears. “I don’t suppose you have any tea?”


	2. Chapter 2

The phrase: _ask and you shall receive_ , had surely never before been taken to this level.

Stark hadn’t had any tea in his home, but with the swiftness in which several different brew options had been delivered, one would have thought otherwise. 

Loki had felt a tad overwhelmed by all the options presented to him, and while the _Tienchi Flower Tea_ and the _Gyokuro Tea_ \- two of the most expensive teas in the world - were tempting choices, he opted for black. Soon after, a warm mug was pressed carefully into his hands. 

He sighed gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma as steam brushed against his face. Drinking it slowly, he focused on the warmth that settled into his belly, blocking all other sensations from his consciousness. It was a tactic he’d used often in his youth, usually when Thor was being boorishly loud or Odin had begun comparing the two of them at length. It was Loki’s own sort of meditation, and he felt instantly calmed. 

Once he began focusing on the room at large again, he was not surprised to find Stark staring at him. The expression on his face, however, caught Loki off guard. 

Now that the morphine was finally wearing off, Loki was a bit more aware of how unusual his situation was. 

Even though this was hardly the first time, he still found it a bit startling to see the mob boss lacking his signature glasses. Though admittedly, it was always difficult to get a read on the man's face, glasses, or no. Stark wore his masks better than even Loki did, rarely showing what he was truly thinking or feeling. At the present, however, Stark was smiling softly, affection openly displayed for Loki to see. 

His mouth fell open partially before he could stop it, and he ducked his head, embarrassed. “The tea is delicious,” he mumbled awkwardly.

“Yeah?” Stark asked. “It all tastes like boiled grass to me, but whatever makes you happy.”

Loki had to fight his own smile that threatened to curl around his lips. _Happy_. Only Frigga had ever cared about his happiness, as opposed to what use he could be to others.

A moment later he frowned, chiding himself. Stark was not comparable to his mother, and it was an insult to her memory to do so in the first place. The mob boss found Loki to be an amusement - a fuck toy on the side - one that could quite easily be replaced. The only reason he had cared enough to rescue him from Doom was that he viewed Loki as _his_. 

Under his ‘protection’. Loki could read between the lines and recognize that meant he was on a leash. 

He placed the tea down on the coffee table before straightening again. “I would like to leave,” he said, watching Stark’s reaction carefully.

Stark blinked. “The Avenger’s haven’t caught on to the fact you were taken, there’s no rush.”

Well, that certainly stung more than Loki would care to admit. “I don’t really care about their lack of concern,” he lied. “I simply wish to go home.”

Surprise, hurt, and understanding flashed in quick succession across Stark’s face. “Of course,” he said, barely hiding his obvious disappointment. “But if you stayed, I could get you anything you wanted.”

“What I want is the comfort of my own bed,” Loki told him, narrowly keeping his tone from becoming sharp. “Besides,” he went on, “Unlike you, Stark, I do not need everything the world has to offer to feel satisfied.”

“Well,” Stark said, his tone slipping into its usual drawl, the kind that made a normal man quake in fear. 

Loki was not normal, however, and Stark knew full well the effect that tone had on him. He licked his lips self-consciously, watching as the criminal tracked the movement.

“Almost everything.”

Loki sneered. “If you think that just because you saved me from Doom-”

“I don’t think anything,” Stark interrupted him calmly. “You have no obligation to repay me in any way.”

“Am I to take the word of a man who had been planning on working with my captor, right up until the moment he knew just _who_ the bargaining chip was?”

That was one of Loki’s more lucid memories; having a bag pulled off of his head to be shown off to a ‘partner’, and the immediate gunfire that followed before everything went black again. 

“That was just a cover so that Doom would let me get close to you,” Stark explained. Loki could not detect a lie, but his face must have still shown apprehension, because Stark continued to say, “You can take my word for this, Loki. I would never lie to you.”

Loki laughed sharply and turned his head away so that he would not have to face him. “You know of my family's history,” he spat. “Of course you would tell me this if only to make me all the more vulnerable when you eventually toss me aside.”

The silence following that statement was incredibly weighted. 

“I don’t think I ever could, even if I wanted to,” Stark murmured quietly.

Loki’s head snapped back in time to watch as Stark stood, pulling his phone out of his pocket and firing off a quick text. 

“My driver will be here in a few minutes,” he told Loki, not even glancing at him. “He’ll get you home in no time. You can wait here, or I could have someone help you downstairs now.”

Loki stared in confusion. What Stark had said before had sounded very much like a confession. “I-” he faltered. What did he want now? “I would like very much if _you_ would assist me.”

Stark finally looked at him again, his expression hopeful before he schooled it. “Alright.”

He offered his hand, the same hand that had killed dozens, and Loki grasped it without hesitation. He’d felt its strength before as it had rung sweet release from his body, but now - as it carefully guided him to standing, and it’s partner rested reassuringly on his back - rather than excite him, it made his chest flare with an emotion he would rather not name. 

Stark guided Loki’s arm around his shoulder, and despite being shorter than him, bore his weight with grace. Together they entered an elevator, which began descending a moment later. They were both quiet, and when Loki turned his head slightly, he found his nose buried in Stark’s hair. Stark turned as well, and Loki could feel his breath against his neck. He shivered.

When the elevator doors opened, they both pulled back slightly and stepped out. They were promptly greeted by one of Stark’s henchmen, who guided them into a parking garage. Rather than a limo, there was a rather unflashy Volvo waiting for them. 

“Welp, guess this is your ride,” Stark said. With a nod of his head, the henchman opened a passenger door. 

With Stark’s help, Loki awkwardly, and not without a few pained hisses, managed to situate himself in the car. Stark leaned across Loki to help buckle him in, wanting to ensure he would be safe for the drive home. The act most certainly did _not_ cause butterflies to flutter in his stomach.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered once he was done. 

Stark smiled. “No problem.”

He started moving to pull himself out of the car, but before he could go far, Loki cupped his cheek. Stark froze, staring at him. Loki encouraged him to lean forwards, and their lips met for what was perhaps the softest kiss they had ever shared.

When they pulled back again, Loki repeated himself. “Thank you.” 

Stark’s smile was warm and understanding. “Anytime, Lokes.”

He finally withdrew, albeit slowly, and shut the door. His eyes never left Loki’s as the car pulled away.

  
  
  
  


When Loki was dropped off at his apartment complex, he insisted that he did not need help getting into his flat. Stark’s henchman had given him a pair of crutches and assisted him in covering the worst of the bruising on his face with makeup, which he was grateful for, but wanted no help beyond that. Eventually, they agreed, and Loki went in unaccompanied. 

Once he had closed his apartment door behind himself, however, he tensed, instantly knowing something was off, though he could not place what. Someone had been in his home recently, that much was clear.

As his panic began in to climb, he happened to glance down. He could do nothing but stare. There was an emerald on his floor. And another, and another-

He hobbled beside the trail - laid out before him like bread crumbs, or perhaps rose petals - and followed it to his bedroom. It went past his dresser, twisted under his reading chair, and finally came to a stop in front of his bed. There, the last of the emeralds formed a large, green heart.

Loki burst out laughing, nearly losing his balance. He used the crutches to catch himself and continued to smile nonetheless. Entering his bedroom, he sat on his bed, ignoring his ribs cry of protest to reach down and grab one of the emeralds. Once it was in his hand, he lay down across his sheets and he held the gem up to the dying sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. He imagined Stark did much the same when he first had them stolen; thinking of his eyes.

He chuckled, turning so that he was on his side. He fell asleep like that, with the emerald held close to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was the end satisfying? If you haven't already, please go give Starsdidathing credit for the fic I based this off of.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you are all safe and healthy. Please take proper precautions a wear a mask. There's a vaccine people, we're in the final stretch! Don't stop now.
> 
> Read ya later!


End file.
